


heal your wounds, soothe my heart

by s_craggy



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: (?), Canon Compliant, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Kurapika (Hunter X Hunter), M/M, Pining, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 22:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18108050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_craggy/pseuds/s_craggy
Summary: "I was under the impression that this was an all-hours walk-in clinic." Kurapika says. Their eyes glance over Leorio's form for a moment, taking in his obvious nightwear. "I supposed I must have the wrong address.""Oh, shut up, asshole." Leorio huffs. "You know this is the right place. Get in here before I decide to go to bed."





	heal your wounds, soothe my heart

**Author's Note:**

> its been a HOT minute since i posted anything. so much shit has happened. the beginning and end of my first relationship. first and possibly last semester of college. 3 different therapists. moved 3 times. anyways just some pining leorio and reckless kurapika

It's late, and the shutters are drawn, and Leorio has already slipped into his pajamas and under the covers when there's a knock at the door. 

The small house he was able to buy himself with the fortune he made off of his license has been converted into his own little doctor's office. There's a sign on his door about free medical treatment and already most people in town have come to meet him, even if they haven't needed any care, and they all know that he is available at all hours, especially for an emergency. Still, it isn't often that he gets a patient this late. 

He grumbles and yawns and stumbles over to the front door, kicking shoes out of his way and stepping around piles of books. The person knocks again, softly, and Leorio thinks for a moment that he hears footsteps, like the person is walking away, and so he rushes to the door and swings it open without a second thought, trying to catch them before they leave. 

It seems he was right; there, paused on the steps, hands in the pockets of their long coat, frozen at the sound of the door, is a person. 

"Hello?" Leorio says. "Can I help you?" 

And then they turn around. 

Grey eyes. Blond hair. Sallow face. 

It's Kurapika. 

"Kurapika..." 

"I was under the impression that this was an all-hours walk-in clinic." Kurapika says. Their eyes glance over Leorio's form for a moment, taking in his obvious nightwear. "I supposed I must have the wrong address." 

"Oh, shut up, asshole." Leorio huffs. "You know this is the right place. Get in here before I decide to go to bed." 

Kurapika complies with a grateful inclination of their head. 

Leorio leads them to the empty bedroom he uses as his main work area. There's a desk with a computer (Zepile got it for him at a killer price, called it a birthday present even though it was November), a low sitting examination table (yeah, it's just a table with a thin foam mattress on top, but he made sure to cover it with a material that's easy to sterilize and –  _ look, _ the license didn't get him THAT much money and it's honestly more comfortable than the actual ones and he'd pay all the money in the world to make sure that those little kids who come in looking so scared can have a little comfort), and a second hand cabinet he repurposed to hold all of his equipment and supplies. 

He waves Kurapika inside. This isn't the first time they've been here seeking medical attention. Says that it's just because of the confidentiality, says that even whatever alias they're going under at the time shouldn't be kept in any kind of hospital records just in case. Says it's safer than anything else. 

Leorio hopes that maybe, just maybe, Kurapika misses him, too. 

Kurapika winces as they sit down on the table, and Leorio frowns. Kurapika is – graceful, composed and poised, this sort of controlled eloquence that gives people no room to doubt that they are capable and very much the ruler of their whims; a human, nonetheless, who stumbles from time to time, but one who is more adept and experienced than most could ever hope to be. So to see them show obvious discomfort, even just between the two of them, is a little alarming. 

"What did you get into this time?" Leorio scorns. He doesn't bother to start with Kurapika's vital signs – there's no point to it, they don't care what results come back and Leorio has been forbidden from creating a file for them, even just for his own personal use. Instead he rifles through the cabinet pulling out anything he thinks he might need. He hovers his hand over the needles used for stitches, but regretfully grabs them, as he can almost guarantee their use. 

"Just work." Kurapika says. They're peeling back their coat now, and their shirt under that. They sit there with only their binder – Leorio wants to  _ scream _ seeing them in it now of all times, when he can clearly see the bandages underneath it, covering some wound that still bleeding. 

"Work, my ass." Leorio snaps. He pulls on a pair of gloves and readies the antiseptic. "I'm serious. What the fuck did you do?" 

Kurapika lays back on the table. The injury is on their side, mostly, curling around onto their stomach and down onto their leg. They say nothing as he pulls back the bandages. 

"Fuck, Kurapika." Leorio breathes. "This is – this is almost  _ infected _ , how long have you had it?" 

"Only a week." Kurapika tells him. Again, he wants to scream. 

"This cut is almost down to the bone." He says, bending down to get a closer look. "God, I – you need to take better care of yourself, bastard. If something this bad got infected you could have-"

"I am here, aren't I?" Kurapika says. "I trust you to take care of me, Leorio." 

That makes him pause. Well, actually, it makes his heart fucking jump and makes his brow furrow and makes his chest feel like it's been wrapped in the blood pressure cuff still tucked away with everything else. To think that Kurapika trusts him like that. That Kurapika comes to him for help. That he's even able to help at all. It's-

"...You can't just rely on me, asshole." He mumbles, but he only half means it. Kurapika should watch after themself better, yes, but Leorio is – well, he's selfish, and he likes being needed. Likes being relied on. Likes being the one that people go to. 

(That Kurapika goes to.)

"You haven't let me down so far." Kurapika says in reply, sitting up slightly to move their pants so Leorio is able to more easily see the rest of the wound. "Besides, having you to trust allows me to do more. Knowing that there is someone reliable out there to heal my ailments." 

"Wish I could heal your  _ brain. _ " Leorio says. Kurapika breathes out a small laugh and allows themself to close their eyes. "Seriously, Kurapika. This looks like a wild dog took a bite out of you. What the hell?" 

Kurapika says nothing, so Leorio simply sighs and gets to work. 

It takes a little work to thoroughly clean the wound. Kurapika hisses a little at the sting, and Leorio apologizes, but it's not something that can be skipped. It's even bigger than Leorio thought at first – the full thing stretches up their chest and back as well. Leorio wonders how Kurapika was able to even get away from whatever thing left this, but he knows better than to ask. 

As Leorio expected, it needs stitches. After the cleaning it's not nearly as daunting of a site; mostly superficial scratches that had been picked at and inflamed. But just above Kurapika's hip is where most of the damage lies, and there the cut goes deep and messy. 

"Gotta do a couple stitches." Leorio tells them, standing up and stretching his back. "Gonna use a local anesthetic." He turns his back to Kurapika as he gathers what he needs. "It's not too bad, but since it got close to a bone this is gonna hurt like a bitch." 

"It's fine." Kurapika says. They have sweat all over their forehead already, just from cleaning the wound. "Save that for another patient." 

"Fucker." Leorio says. "No fucking way." 

They scowl, but don't argue any further. 

Leorio works as quickly as possible. The clock shows a little past two when he finally sits back and looks at his work. The stitches are neat and tight and the wound, though raw and pink, looks leagues better than when Kurapika first entered the room. Kurapika themself looks nearly ready to pass out, still laid back on the table. Leorio helps them sit up and covers everything with fresh white bandages and helps them to redress. 

"Thank you, Leorio." Kurapika says, sliding off the table to stand up. They wobble a little on their feet, but stay standing. 

"You don't need to thank me, dumbass." Leorio says. "It's what I do." 

"Still, I appreciate the service." 

That flicker of warmth sparks in Leorio's stomach again, and so he restlessly begins to tidy up the room. He doesn't want to stand there and look at Kurapika, watch his grey eyes and pale lips and wait for them to curve into a smile. Doesn't want to get caught up in the golden halo that is their hair around their face, doesn't want to think about the feel of it in his hands, the feel of Kurapika in his arms, their warmth, their breath, just  _ them. _

Doesn't want to think about it at all. 

He tosses the packaging for the bandages into the trash. Kurapika shifts from one foot to the other. 

"I think I shall take my leave now." Kurapika says. "I really do appreciate your help, Leorio." 

"Wait, hold on." Leorio commands. "You're just gonna leave?" 

Kurapika blinks. "Yes?" 

"You shouldn't be working with that injury!" Leorio tells them. "You need to rest!" 

"I will rest." Kurapika says. "Once I get back to-"

"No. You're staying the night."

Kurapika frowns. "That is unnecessary-" 

"No, it  _ is _ necessary. If you want to leave you'll have to fight me for it and don't think I just sit around in my doctor chair all day." 

For a moment Kurapika hesitates, biting their lip. Then, with a resigned sigh, they say, "Alright, fine. One night." 

"Good." Leorio stretches his arms above his head, then moves toward the door. "I'll set my bed up for you, then." 

"Leorio-" 

He stops, turning to look them in the eyes. Right now, at two in the morning with an incredibly painful injury on their side, they look small and uncertain, nothing at all like the person who had walked in. They meet his gaze for a moment, then look away. 

"I'll go make the bed. You should look through my dresser for some PJs. The pants are gonna be useless big on you but it's more comfortable than the shit you're wearing." He says. "I'll wash them for you, too. Dirty ass." 

"You really don't need to go to the trouble." 

Leorio yawns. "No trouble. You know what  _ is _ trouble? You getting mauled half to death every other month and thinking there's nothing wrong with that. I swear I'm gonna start graying if you don't stop that shit. Stresses me out thinking about what you'd do if I wasn't here to clean you up." 

"I would probably be dead." Kurapika says flatly. Leorio pulls a fresh set of sheets from a closet in the hallway. "No. I would  _ definitely _ be dead if it weren't for you." 

"You're welcome." Leorio huffs. 

"But," Kurapika continues, "to be fair, you would also probably have died without me, so I think we're even." 

Leorio rolls his eyes. 

His bed is already mostly made, what with him only being in it for a few minutes before Kurapika arrived. He makes sure Kurapika has changed clothes and tucked themself in before going out to the living room and making the couch into his bed. 

"Leorio." 

He looks up. Kurapika is standing at the entry to the living room, swimming in Leorio's bedtime clothes and looking nothing if not cosy. They have an expression on their face that Leorio isn't sure he's seen before. Something concerned, maybe, or loving. 

"I really do feel bad for stealing your bed." Kurapika says. 

"It's fine, really-" 

"But I happened to notice that your bed seems to be able to fit two." Kurapika nods his head toward Leorio, as if to indicate that he is, in fact, one of the two. "I take no issue in it, and so if it would be more comfortable to you, I would like to offer simply sharing the bed between the two of us, so neither is stuck uncomfortably on the couch." 

He wasn't really expecting that. Sharing the bed. It's not like he  _ cares _ – they're both going to be sleeping, anyways, it doesn't matter. He tries to tell that to his overheating face, but the message doesn't appear to have been received. 

"I, uh – yeah, sure, I guess." Leorio says eloquently. Kurapika smiles softly. 

Leorio puts the sheets away. He takes a piss. Brushes his teeth. Looks at his frazzled reflection in the mirror and wonders how in the world he's supposed to sleep with someone like Kurapika there next to him. He takes a breath, and then another, and opens the bathroom door and walks to the bedroom and lays down beside Kurapika and takes one more breath to try to ease his nerves. 

Kurapika is silent. 

Leorio can't stop his overactive mind. It's a rush – a blur of thoughts and faded images, small glimpses of blond hair and scarlet eyes, clips of a honey sweet voice that say his name. He wonders why Kurapika is able to trust him. Wonders why Kurapika continues with this job and the injuries and the danger when there's other ways to meet their goal. Wonders why Kurapika didn't fight him nearly as hard as he had expected to be fought about staying the night. 

Maybe, he thinks, and Kurapika switches off the lamp while he thinks, sending the room into darkness, maybe, Kurapika is lonely. 

Leorio wouldn't be surprised. Mafia life isn't exactly supportive. Don't get to just sit down and talk with people unless there's a gun pressed to someone's back and everyone else has one hidden beneath their coat. Maybe Kurapika just wants a friend. 

Just a friend? 

Leorio hates his fucking heart for focusing on that thought. Shitty fucking bastard traitor heart.

And – and sharing the bed! What's that about! And using those long sentences to beat around the bush like they didn't even want to say it in the first place – it's not like them. Kurapika isn't someone who beats around the bush – they're not mean about it, or aggressive, but they get to the point and get it over with and they don't drag it out with that weird look on their face that Leorio can't decipher, they don't give up with barely a fight when someone tries to look after them, they don't – 

Or, maybe, Leorio just doesn't know them like this. Maybe they're different. Something changed. Maybe they're not feeling well. Maybe this is another step in the long journey that has been befriending Kurapika. He sure as hell doesn't know. 

All he knows is that he likes Kurapika and nothing they do is making it any easier. 

He can hear them breathing behind him, soft and slow and steady. It's not quite the deep breaths of sleep, but they're getting there, he can tell. He's glad. They need it. 

He rolls onto his back, and his arm is so close to Kurapika's. Almost touching. Not quite. Leorio wonders for a moment if they'll touch in their sleep, hands or arms or legs brushing together without either of them noticing. He wonders if his limbs will feel different when he wakes up. Wonders how it will feel to wake with Kurapika next to him. 

He rolls back onto his side in an embarrassed rush. No need to linger on those thoughts! Just go to sleep. Sleep. Sleep...................

(It takes him over an hour to get to sleep, but once he's gone he stays asleep, a peaceful, restful sleep.)

(Kurapika is gone when he wakes. All that remains of them is a note written on a piece of paper torn from a notebook. It reads: 

Leorio, 

Thank you as always for your care. Never have I left your office not feeling at least twice as good as when I entered. Hopefully our meeting can be over a different table. Perhaps a table in the cafe down the street, next Tuesday? 

I took a couple of books from your collection, and am going to attempt this "relaxation" you continuously recommend. 

Kurapika

)

(There's no address to confirm their meeting.)


End file.
